


Rigel

by Shhxstopxyelling



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: ("I can't breathe..I'm Sandra Bullock in Gravity."), Domestic Heist Wives, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Panic Attacks, jk, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 09:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shhxstopxyelling/pseuds/Shhxstopxyelling
Summary: The afternoon before she visits Becker's gallery, Debbie is confronted by things that haven't changed; things that have; and reintegrating herself back into Lou's life.





	Rigel

**Author's Note:**

> I need more O's 8 content. Like now. Someone needs to O's 8 me right now. Hence this fic. Not sure where the angst came from.. wanted to write something soft. Idk

Lou’s guest bedroom sheets were grey, a bit musty- in the way that was settled and familiar; like the comforting, yet mysterious pages of an old book.

She sat on the edge of the bed, facing the door. She could hear Lou rattling about downstairs, no doubt working on that bike of hers. It was just enough to put Debbie on edge.

She never cared for motorcycles, though there was no denying their practicality. Still, she found the boundlessness of the machines becoming less and less liberating and more tiresome. But Debbie was in no position to criticize Lou‘s life- what Lou created in spite of her.

Debbie’s mouth tasted sour. She wrinkled her nose- it wasn’t time to indulge this- it didn’t really matter anyway. Lou and her bike were a perfect match- her mechanical mind and innate restlessness met, but never satisfied.

Debbie raised her fingers to her head in a hollow attempt to calm the impending, but inevitable headache threatening her. Today was not her day, she decided- it wasn’t really true, but she took a bit of comfort in dwelling for a moment.

The clock read 2:42, she has quite a bit of time to kill before she paid Becker a visit.  
Pulling on an old cardigan, she shuffled into the hall bathroom, rifling through the cabinet which was -unsurprisingly- barren.

Debbie found an old bottle of aspirin that was definitely expired. She held it up to see if it was pop-a-few-extra expired or better-off-taking-a-espresso-shot expired, deciding not to mind that she had to bring the bottle mere inches from her face to make out the date. 3 years. Could be worse. She took four of the pills before pocketing the bottle and heading back to her bed. She draped the cardigan over the small chest that sat at the foot of the bed, next to the black cutout dress she would wear to the gallery.

 

She laid back on the bed, closed her eyes and drifted. Downstairs she heard Lou laugh, followed by a faint jingle- a key-ring she guessed. And with that, Debbie fell asleep on top of the untucked blanket.

***

Debbie woke peacefully for the first time in years. There was a quiet that hung lowly in the air, and a heavy stillness on her chest like a winter quilt. She stared at the ceiling. She watched as stars began dancing in vision, and felt a warmth begin creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. She took a deep breath, strained from the weight on her chest and heat in the air.

She took another breath, and another, fighting to get enough air into her lungs. She felt blood pooling in her ears, the rushing heat muting all other sounds except the heavy thundering of her heart quickening with each beat. Her vision swarmed with harsh starbursts of light as her head began to pound in rhythm with her heart.

Debbie gasped, her diaphragm spasming painfully, expelling all of the air from her lungs and replacing it with involuntary and superficial gasps. Her eyes widened as she felt the weight press even harder against her chest. She flew up from the bed, terror taking a hold of her when the lack of resistance left adenine coursing through her veins, swarming down her arms and through her fingers, each nerve going haywire with painful pin-pricks, but there had been nothing holding her down.

 

She pressed her feet against the ground, but the absent tingling moving up her legs stole all concrete sensations of tangibility. She couldn’t feel anything. She panicked, powerless to stop an incoming wave of nausea as it crashed into her.

Her body lurched against her will, and she was doubled over the bed, dry heaving in rapid succession, unable to draw enough air back into her lungs to properly exhale.

The room spun as she desperately grasped for the nightstand, her knuckles turning white as she clutched the edge of the wooden table and pulled herself to a standing position.

A sob tore through her body, then all at once, air flew through her lungs at a speed that sent her reeling. Her eyes spilled over with tears, washing away the blurs of harsh light and swimming vision.

As her vision cleared, her breath returned with each sob. Slowly but surely her heart rate began to slow; sensory input began seeping back into rational categories.

Colors inched back into the walls, and the low rumbling of the air conditioner played softly in her ear.

Debbie was hit with an overwhelming sense of relief. With this, a fresh wave of tears hit her, but they were slowing. She had almost regained full control of her breathing, and she felt lighter, and, before she could consider it, a smile ghosted her lips.

She quickly wiped at the tears on her cheeks, before placing her hands back on the nightstand. She pressed her fingers along the rough edge of the wood, concentrating on how the dark brown lines that ran along the grain, following each carefully down to the end. A few tears still ran down her cheeks.

She jumped when keys rattled behind her, swiftly scrubbing each hand over her face, whipping around to face Lou.

Debbie looked into a pair of blue eyes, stunned and marveled at the sheer intensity.

Before her, sat a marvelous long-haired shepherd dog. The dog was nothing short of majestic, sitting calmly in the door frame, head tilted to the side as it stared at her.

Debbie blinked. “Hey,” she offered, unsure what to make of the situation. Its ears perked up; it looked at her almost expectantly.

“I‘m Debbie.”

She waited, lightly contemplating the absurdity and annoyance of its presence, but settled on amusement as she waited for the dog bark, or leave, or something.

But the dog was giving her nothing. It just stared at her. “So..” she continued, “you come here often?”

Debbie tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed, watching as the dog stood and began wagging its tail playfully, looking much more youthful than it had just moments ago, almost looking like a puppy. Tricky.

“What are you trying to pull?”

She got her answer as it trotted over, tail wagging excitedly, and pushed its head up against her hand. Blue eyes looked up and her, not begging or expectant, just intense and impossibly gentle.

Debbie conceded, scratching the animal behind the ears. The dog pressed its head into Debbie‘s hand and licked her wrist. _You better be Lou’s dog._

Debbie watched as the dog sniffed at her with caricatural concentration, wiggling its nose and making a cartoonish sniffling noise. She intuitively repressed a grin, kneeling down in front of the creature; they faced each other eye to eye for a moment. Debbie smiled.

“Hey,” she ran a hand over its head, “What are you looking at?”

Without warning, the dog lurched forward and began licking Debbie‘s face.

“Stop that!” she laughed, despite herself, pushing the animal away kindly.

Suddenly, there was metallic clatter downstairs, she jumped, on her feet seconds later. At this, the dog, seemingly unbothered, pads out of the room, and,- from what she could tell- down the stairs.

She pushes herself up and pulls on her cardigan, the forgotten aspirin rattling in her pocket.

She walks to the bathroom and examines herself in the mirror. Her makeup was runny, her eyes were a bit red, and hair was a mess. She’d definitely looked better, but -somehow- hadn’t felt better in a long time.

She wiped off her makeup, pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, and took a moment to look at herself in the mirror- an actual mirror, not the scarcely reflective metal sheet that was afforded in prison, graffiti and all.

She ran some cool water over her face and patted it dry, before heading downstairs.

As Debbie leisurely made her way down the stairs she saw Lou in the kitchen making a sandwich. The dog was sitting respectfully a few feet away from her, eyeing the food.

Lou looked up at her and smiled, “Hey, sleepyhead.”

She snorted, rubbing her neck, “What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

Debbie rounded the corner, stopping in her tracks when the dog ran up to her and started licking her hand. She pulled it away, performatively shocked, but she scratched its head. Debbie looked up Lou expectantly, who held her gaze, chin up, making no effort to explain.

“Who’s this?”

Lou peeled her eyes away from her, and cut her sandwich in half. “Rigel.”

“Ri-gel?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, overcompensating-ly nonchalant, trying to get Debbie to match her.

“Okay,” Debbie mumbled, more to herself, as she processed this. A tense but playful presence hung between them.

“So,” Debbie started, “how long have you had Rigel?”

“A few years,” she took a bite of her sandwich before continuing, “stole my dinner.”

“What?”  
“She stole my dinner. I was on my way to the club one evening, I had picked up some takeaway when I heard someone yelling behind me. Before I knew it this dog snatched my bag and started tearing it up.”

“Guess she was hungry.”

“Yeah. Not as tactful a thief as Constance though. Soon enough this girl came running up behind me, apologizing and apologizing, she seemed really upset. She was wearing one of those animal shelter t-shirts. She told the dog was a rescue, and that they were having a hard time adopting her out. She only had until the end of the week.”

“They were going to put her down?”

Lou nodded, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Said she was too violent.“

Debbie‘s eyes widened. “Really?”

Lou shook her head. “I don’t think so, she had just had puppies. They were adopted out, but I think she was just trying to protect them.”

“Okay,” Debbie ran her fingers through Rigel‘s soft fur, “this is weird news.”

Lou didn’t say anything.

“You got a dog..”

“Yeah.” Lou’s voice was melodically slow.

“Named Rigel.”

Lou held the other half of her sandwich up, “Come try this.” Debbie waltzed over with mock put-upon-ness leaving Rigel behind, eyeing the sandwich with an overdramatic show of suspicion, before taking it from Lou.

“Monte cristo?”

“With turkey.”

“Hmm.” With narrow eyes fixed on Lou, she took a bite.

“That’s very good.”

“I know.” Debbie tore off a piece of the sandwich  
That caught Rigel’s attention, the telltale jingle of her collar giving her away as she scampered up to Debbie. Debbie looked down at what one might call a puppy-dog face. _K-9 con._

“Don’t give her anymore turkey.”

“I’m not.” She kissed Lou’s jaw. “Thank you.”

With that, she made her way back upstairs, the dog on her heels. And if Rigel caught a few pieces of turkey along the way, Lou would be none the wiser.

**Author's Note:**

> ...also I feel like debs has some unresolved tension that she needs to deal with, but probs won't tbh. Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.


End file.
